The Sacrifices We Make
by Gypsygrrl
Summary: Sometimes, in order to get what one wants, sacrifices have to be made.


Powerful muscles coiled and bunched with tension as a trail of whisper-soft kisses was laid along the length of his spine, the ghosting touches sparking along hyperaware nerve endings almost unbearably: it wasn't supposed to _be_ like this, dammit!

For months he'd fantasized about how the other man would look sprawled beneath him, imagining how he would sound, how he would _taste…_

His eyes flew open when he felt long-fingered hands on his ass, cool against his heated skin, spreading him—_oh fuck no he wasn't going to—_ and that fucking gorgeous mouth moved lower, warm-wet-_wicked_ tongue licking a bold stripe across his entrance to tear a strangled sound that was half shout and half-fucking-moan from his throat before he could swallow it down.

He buried his burning face in the pillow, silently cursing his unruly cock for landing him in this _fucking embarrassing_ predicament, teeth clenched against a spill of even more humiliating noises as that tongue lapped at him with cat-like delicacy and drove him _thisclose_ to losing his fucking mind from the electric pleasure sizzling through him. _Fuck the brat had a talented tongue._

He could only imagine the smirk on Lisa's face if she could see him now, spread out and brought down by a brat a fraction of his age. He'd never live it down.

The sensation of cool lube drizzling against his sensitized skin yanked him from his thoughts and back to the present, and his hands fisted more firmly in the sheets as a slick fingertip teased his entrance before sinking slowly, inexorably inside. He sucked in a hissing breath at the almost forgotten sting of being breached, suddenly wishing he was laying on his back and could _see_ the other man's face; he'd thought it less embarrassing if he couldn't watch himself being taken, more bearable somehow, but somehow this was turning out to be worse. It felt cold, _wrong._

"Stop."

A second finger had been teasing at his entrance, preparing the join the first, but both disappeared instantly. He felt the mattress shift beneath the other man's weight, and despite the short length of their acquaintance he _knew_ he was seconds away from losing the kid entirely. He could sense it as already restrained reiatsu dampened further, all but vanishing as if its owner was already gone, and he rolled onto his back and caught hold of Hisagi's wrist before the younger man could scoot off the bed. The newly-promoted captain's face was pale except for the hectic color edging along sharp cheekbones, his dark eyes wide as he stared down at the large hand gripping his wrist before flicking up to the Vizard's face.

"I want to see you," Kensei said quietly, tugging the younger man back between his legs and guiding his hand back to its previous position when Hisagi didn't move, biting back a smile when the kid's breath hitched and the color in his face deepened. Oh yeah, this was so much better.

The dark-haired shinigami didn't move at first, studying the Vizard intently for long moments beneath a lacy veil of lashes that hid what he was thinking, and for a moment Kensei suspected he had fucked things up royally.

But a heartbeat later he felt the brush of fingertips against his entrance once more, and a heartbeat after that he was fisting his hands in the sheets with a ragged groan as two fingers pressed inside him smoothly, all the way to the first knuckle. He glared balefully up at the kid as he panted around the sensation of being stretched so suddenly, but Hisagi wasn't looking at him; those dark eyes were focused on the lower half of the older man's body, brow lightly furrowed as he crooked his fingers experimentally—and Kensei's body jerked as bright sparks of pleasure replaced discomfort.

The faint frown on the kid's face smoothed, and the Vizard swore when the brat tapped his prostate again, head pressing back into the pillows as his hips tilted up without his volition, rocking himself against the younger man's hand as Hisagi—_fucking brat!—_set about driving him out of his mind with his fingers this time, a third finger soon joining the other two and all three working him open while keeping up constant assault on his sweet spot.

Dimly he heard the faint 'click' of the lube cap snapping open, focused as he was on the digits moving inside him, unashamedly riding the shinigami's fingers as inarticulate curses spilled from him, mixed with ragged groans that edged just this side of outright moans that all demanded _'more'. _He was distantly aware of Hisagi's free hand slicking up his cock, excess lube wiped off on the sheets beside his leg, and he growled a protest as those slender fingers slipped free of his body…only to be replaced by something far larger.

His grip on the sheets tightened as the blunt head pressed past the first ring of muscle, his breath coming in short, hard pants as he was penetrated slowly but steadily. He wanted to snarl at the younger man, demand he get it over with already, but he knew the kid was being careful so as not to hurt him unnecessarily. Sweet of him, but they'd be here all night if it continued, and he planned on being buried inside that lean body within the hour.

He shifted, one knee bending to hook around a sharp hipbone, and, releasing his grip on the bedding with one hand, yanked Hisagi forward, breath hissing out as he was impaled fully on the younger man's cock. _Fuck that stung more than a little._

A muffled, unsteady chuckle sounded against his shoulder let him know he'd said that out loud, and he groaned inwardly. _Real smooth there, Muguruma._

"You could have just said you wanted me to move faster, Taicho."

"Not a Taicho anymore, brat," he responded automatically, and a nose nuzzled the base of his throat, followed by that sinfully soft mouth that had haunted his dreams for months.

"Whatever you say, Muguruma-san."

Kensei had to chuckle at the quick retort, his other hand releasing the sheet to smooth over spiky dark hair before nudging the other man's head up.

"I think we can dispense with honorifics at this point, brat. It's kinda creepy hearing you call me that when you're balls-deep inside me."

He didn't give the younger man a chance to argue, tilting his head down to capture that surprisingly smart mouth with his own and groaning when the kid—_Shuuhei—_opened to him immediately.

The lean frame shifted atop him, long fingers spearing through short silver hair as slim hips rolled slowly, sending him deeper inside the Vizard's body.

Their banter had served to relax the ex-shinigami, and the pleasurable ache of being filled replaced the earlier pain.

He growled low in his throat, the sound swallowed between them, and the younger man wormed a hand between them, grasping Kensei's cock firmly, stroking it back to full hardness.

The Vizard broke their kiss with a curse, eyes slitting and head pressing back against the pillows as the hand on his length sent bright sparks of pleasure dancing through him.

"_Move._"

Shuuhei braced himself on one hand, hips drawing back before snapping forward, and Kensei reached down to knock the stroking hand away and replace it with his own, allowing the other man to brace both hands on the bed, gaining him further leverage.

Slim hips rolled, withdrew, snapped forward with unerring accuracy, and along with the hand stroking himself, Kensei knew it wouldn't be long before he came.

Glancing up into his lover's face, into dark eyes blown with pleasure, he knew Shuuhei wouldn't last long either.

"Come for me, brat. Come inside me," he growled, feeling the heat coiling low in his belly, centering at the base of his spine, and with one last thrust Shuuhei's head dropped back on a long, low cry, his entire body stiffening as his climax hit, spilling himself deep inside the Vizard.

The sight and feel of the younger man coming pushed him over the edge, his vision whiting out as mind-shattering pleasure exploded through him, and his hoarse shout filled the air as he tensed, his seed arcing from his cock to spatter his stomach and chest and still-stroking hand.

When he came back to himself moments later he found Shuuhei draped atop him, panting breaths fanning over his skin as the younger man struggled to regain his breath, and he grinned to himself before nudging the shinigami's face towards his for a slow, soft kiss.

He pulled away a moment later, his grin turning predatory.

"My turn, brat."

And Shuuhei blinked once before one corner of his mouth kicked up in the faintest of smiles.

"So it is, Kensei, so it is."

Afterward

She looked up from her manga with a scowl when Shinji nudged her shoulder, ready to deliver a scathing retort to whatever inanity the blond was about to spout, but he merely grinned down at her and jerked the point of his chin at something across the room.

"Looks like Kensei finally got his man."

She followed his gaze, eyes widening fractionally behind her glasses as she watched the silver-haired Vizard emerge from his room with a dark-haired shinigami in tow, then smiled slowly as she noted the slight limp in _both_ mens' gaits as they made their way to the kitchen.

"Oh, I think Hisagi got his man too. Hiyori and Love owe me a thousand yen."

With that said, she levered herself up from her comfortable sprawl and left him goggling speechlessly after her, wandering off to find the other two Vizards while mentally composing her report to the SWA along with a sweetly-worded request that they have her winnings ready.


End file.
